


Forget What I Said (It’s Not What I Meant)

by Elizabeethan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeethan/pseuds/Elizabeethan
Summary: Neverland is worse than Hell. Emma’s never actually been to Hell, of course, but it’s an easy conclusion to draw based on the experiences she’s had so far. The heat and humidity is enough to drive a woman mad, and the constant buzzing in her ears from the random insects is becoming nauseating. If she has to swat at her own ear one more time she thinks she’ll snap altogether. But the thing that’s driving her out of her mind most severely is, well, him.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 64
Kudos: 154
Collections: CS Neverland New Year





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! The start of 2021 also means it’s time for ✨Captain Swan Neverland New Year✨ so here is my contribution! @neverlandnewyear

Neverland is worse than Hell. Emma’s never actually been to Hell, of course, but it’s an easy conclusion to draw based on the experiences she’s had so far. The heat and humidity is enough to drive a woman mad, and the constant buzzing in her ears from the random insects is becoming nauseating. If she has to swat at her own ear one more time she thinks she’ll snap altogether. But the thing that’s driving her out of her mind most severely is, well, him.

It’s so completely unfair how good he looks. He looks sweaty all the time, but it’s so incredibly sexy because it’s almost as if he’s glistening. The leather clings to his chest in a way that should be illegal, showing off the coarse hair that she’s been dying to run her fingers through.

She gets it, okay? She should be focusing on finding her son and getting the hell out of here. It’s irresponsible of her to be thinking about all the things she wants to do to Captain Hook while on a mission to rescue her kid from Peter Pan. She’s thought it all before. She hasn’t stopped thinking about it. She also hasn’t stopped thinking about him.

She recognizes that she’s behaving childishly. Ignoring him on the ship until he practically corners her in a room is childish. Constantly rolling her eyes at everything he says is childish. But it’s the only thing she can do to keep her damn hands off him.

It became really bad when he started chopping down vines during their trek to make a path through the jungle. The way he swung his cutlass effortlessly through the air until the branches snapped shouldn't have drawn her eyes to the muscles in his back, but it did. And the way he authoritatively led them through the island, begrudgingly telling them all that they needed to know despite how much he clearly hates being here, shouldn't have made her cheeks redden, but it did. Luckily, she can blame that one on the heat of the island.

Honestly, it was only a matter of time. A woman has needs, and when she’s trapped in a dangerous and emotionally exhausting situation for weeks on end, well, who can blame her for taking matters into her own hands… perhaps literally? She nearly loses what little self-control she has left when he starts breaking branches against his knee to use for the fire, his eyes boring deep holes into her own when he catches her staring. Something in her snaps when she wonders what else his strong arms can do.

She chokes down the water inside the coconut she’s (not) enjoying and stands abruptly, noting that her parents have turned in and Regina sits quietly by the fire, and walks past him quickly so that she’s almost at the edge of the clearing when she hears his deep, rumbling voice. “Swan?” he asks, making to stand from his spot beside the fire he always keeps lit.

“I need a minute,” she says under her breath, trying so hard not to turn around and drag him with her. She really just needs a minute away; maybe she can find a stream and splash her face with some water or something.

She’s almost made it out of the clearing when she hears him shuffling behind her, following closely enough that she can feel the heat radiating off of him. Or maybe that’s her. Whatever.

“Hook, I really just need a minute,” she insists. Sure, a part of her still insists on taking matters into her own hands, but what she really thinks she needs is to just be away from the source of her… affliction until she can get over it.

“I heard you, Swan, but it’s dangerous out here on your own. Just allow me to follow behind you to prevent you from falling into any source of danger.”

She rolls her eyes. The last thing she needs is for him to be gentlemanly right now, dammit.

She’s too on edge to argue with him. She thinks anything that comes out of her mouth will be a shout, or maybe that her voice just won’t work at all. “Fine, just... stay away from me,” she finally says, moving swiftly through the thick jungle.

He does something behind her, something between a scoff and a chuckle, and her left eye twitches slightly as fire races through her veins. “If the lady insists,” he says with a timber in his voice that genuinely makes her breath catch in her throat.

“God,” she says, whipping around to face him and finding him standing much closer to her than she expected. “Do you have to talk like that?”

“Like what, darling?” he asks, a smirk growing on his face. He juts his jaw out towards her as his tongue licks along his lower lip, causing her breath to catch.

“Like we’re living in 19th century England.”

“Not sure what that means, my dear, but,” he steps closer to her, raising one brow and smirking as he breathes, “I’m more than willing to let you teach me.”

“Please, you couldn’t handle it,” she says, letting her eyes flutter shut as she shakes her head.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She clears her throat. “Fuck,” she breathes. He cocks his head to one side and narrows his eyes in a way that shouldn’t be sexy but so is.

“You need only say the words, love.”

That’s it. He just snapped her like the branches over his knee.

She grabs the lapels of his stupidly ostentatious coat and tugs until his lips are crashing against hers and she’s swallowing his gasp. It’s hot and rushed and wrong, but the fire in the pit of her stomach tells her that something that feels this good can’t be bad.

She slinks her fingers around his neck until they’re pulling at the soft hair at the base of his skull, tilting his head and hers so that the kiss becomes deeper. He groans at the sensations of her fingers running along his scalp in her desperation as his hand finds her jaw and his hook lands on her lower back to tug her against him. When her hips collide with his, she feels the evidence that he wants this as much as she does. Actually, he hasn’t been shy about that, and she’s been in complete denial, so it follows that he probably wants this even more than she does.

She moans far too loudly when he starts trailing his lips down her neck, biting and licking on his way until he reaches her collarbone. She pulls at his hair some more as his wrist continues to press into her back and his hook pokes against her ass. She can hardly breathe as he follows the valley between her breasts with his mouth until he’s shoving her shirt out of the way, likely stretching the fabric beyond repair. She doesn’t care. When his lips press firmly against her hardened left nipple through her shirt, she breathes out, “yes, fuck, yes.”

His hand traces feather-light patterns up her stomach as it reaches under her shirt and forces her bra out of the way until he’s breathing over her exposed nipple. He licks it lightly, just barely making contact but adding enough moisture so that the breeze of the jungle makes her shiver. He then begins sucking it into his mouth and alternating licks and nips until she cries out. She’s so keyed up that she wonders if she can come from this alone. “Is this what you want, Swan? Is this why you’ve been so captious with me lately?” She can’t breathe enough to respond to him verbally, so instead she moans and nods her head as he trails his tongue to her neglected nipple. “Is it because you want me to touch you?” She nods again. “You want me so badly that you can hardly stand to even be near me?”

“Yes,” she moans. He releases her nipple with a pop and moves his deft fingers to the waist of her pants, tickling her skin as he goes. “God, yes. Please take those off.”

He obliges, tugging at her pants until they’re around her ankles before he sinks to his knees in front of her and breathes heavily against her quaking core. She thinks he might press his mouth to her— she’s desperate for him to do just that— but instead, he lifts one of her legs and ducks so that he’s settled between her knees with her pants behind him, caging him close to her once he stands again. “And what will you have me do with you, love?”

She whimpers pathetically when he lifts her at the knees, her core not quite touching him but dangerously close, and she throws her head back and hits it against the tree she’s pressed to. “God dammit, Hook, just touch me.”

He hums out a laugh as he continues to support her weight with his hooked arm and reaches between them with the other, pushing her soaked underwear to the side and stroking a finger up through her folds. “So wet for me already, Swan,” he murmurs darkly against her neck. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Touch me,” she demands again. Then, with a bit more honesty, “make me forget where the hell we are.”

He kisses her deeply, his tongue dancing between her lips, then pulls away to ask, “do you want me to use my hand, or my cock?”

Her breathing stops. She pulls his hair at the base of his neck so that he’s looking at her and can see her pupils blown wide with arousal. “No time for hands,” she tells him breathily, reaching her own fingers down to the laces of his trousers and tugging them loose.

“No? Are you saying you're so wet for me already that you don’t require any... preparation?”

She shakes her head as she reaches inside his slacks and groans when she feels his marble length twitching in her grasp. How something can feel so soft and so hard all at once is astounding, but not as astounding as the amount of space his arousal takes up in her hold.

“Yes. Now would you just fuck me, please?”

“As you wish,” he breathes, guiding his hand to his length and tickling his fingers against her entrance to ensure that she’s slick enough for him to tuck himself inside (she is). When he plunges his cock into her, she cries out again at the pressure and the delicious burn of him stretching her. She was right about him being well-endowed judging by the irresistible feel of him inside her.

He gives her a moment to adjust, then begins to thrust into her at the perfect pace. She’s never experienced that before, usually needing to tell her lover to slow down or speed up several times before they finally get it right. But Killian seems to know exactly what she needs. It’s like he’s a machine, recognizing each of her responses and adjusting accordingly in order to bring her the most pleasure she’s ever felt.

Her shirt has fallen back down so that he no longer has access to her breasts, so instead, he latches his mouth to a spot just below her collarbone and marks her as his, at least in this moment. The way he continues to thrust deeply into her at the perfect angle while his lips roam across her skin sends a shiver down her spine, but when he presses himself more firmly against her to bear her weight so he can move his hand, she nearly screams. His good hand travels to her clit and starts rubbing furious circles against her as his thrusts maintain their steady, perfect pace, and she would be in awe at his coordination if she wasn’t seconds from reaching the most powerful orgasm she’s ever had.

He keeps up with the circles on her sensitive nerves and she tightens her belly and core around him as his velvet length glides through her. She’s never been so close to orgasm in such a short time, possibly not even at her own hands. She can’t stop the manic whimpers and moans coming from her lips as she tightens every part of herself around him before finally letting go as ecstasy washes over her.

He continues to pump into her as she rides out her high, not stopping until she’s a twitching mess before he stops to pull out of her. He holds her close to him as he works himself up with his own hand, somehow still supporting her weight against the tree, before she reaches down and takes over until he’s spilling himself onto the ground at his feet, his head resting against her neck. He kisses against her skin as he comes down from it, and she revels in the softness of his hair at her fingertips for a moment too long.

She realizes what the hell she’s doing once her brain turns back on and then starts wriggling in his hold until he releases the back of her knee and backs up slightly so that her legs fall. Her pants are still on under her boots and wrapped around him, so she’s nearly sent to the ground before he realizes what’s happening and catches her. He ducks down again so that he can free himself and then stands before her awkwardly, his softening length still hanging out of the laces of his trousers.

“That was, uh,” he starts breathlessly, scratching behind his ear.

“A one time thing,” she answers, shaking her head to clear her mind and pulling her pants up. “Don’t follow me, wait five minutes. Go get some firewood or something,” she insists as she starts back towards the camp, still working on her pants as she walks.

She starts to think about how it might be a very, very bad idea for him to get more firewood, based on the fact that watching him handle the branches is what brought her here in the first place, but before she can think too deeply into it, he says, “as you wish.”

Her heart starts racing, and it’s not because of the heat or because she just had an earth shattering orgasm or because she’s turned on by his physical appearance. She could handle those things.

No, this is something else entirely. And rather than deal with it, she does what she does best and pushes those feelings deep, deep, deep into herself, never planning to address them again.

(She really should just stop making plans.)

~~~~

They spend endless days and nights in Neverland. Time is impossible to keep track of, and it starts to make sense why Neal had kept tic marks on the wall of his cave. The only way she’s able to keep track of how many days pass is by counting the amount of time’s she’s had sex with Killian Jones.

She can’t seem to stop. It started as a one time thing, an itch that needed scratching, but she finds now that she needs the release he gives her more than she needs to sleep. So, each night when they find a place to set up camp, they wait for her parents and Regina to fall asleep and sneak away to find a sturdy tree to fuck against.

On the ninth night, she notices Killian talking to her parents suspiciously and they inform her that Neal is alive, allegedly. As if the prospect of her ex dying and coming back to life in the span of two weeks wasn’t enough for her, he pulls her aside on their way to the Echo Caves and tells her that he was hesitant to tell her because he wanted to spare her feelings until they could confirm that Neal was alive. She scoffs. She has no feelings when it comes to Captain Hook.

They get to the Echo Caves and she learns that he feels the opposite. He’s starting to have feelings for her. Real ones. She stares at him because there’s nothing else she can do, until the ground starts to shake and the bridge starts to build itself.

She tells Neal the truth. He hurt her so much, but she knows that a part of her will always love him. It kills her to admit it to herself, never mind to him.

She fucks Hook angrily that night, with him lying on his back atop his stupid coat and her riding him mercilessly until she feels some semblance of control over herself. They’re far too close to the camp for how loud she is, but when they return, she’s certain everyone is still fast asleep.

The two grown men fight over a lighter. Neal gets grabbed by a shadow and she’s frozen. Hook gets grabbed by one and she screams and summons enough magic to light the fucking candle. She ignores the feelings of relief at him being alive when they meet later that night, convincing herself that the extra long kisses mean nothing.

They get Henry back. As much as she’s grateful to be off of that damn island, she almost grieves the loss of her new nightly routine with the stupid asshole.

He knows exactly how to make her tick, so when he finds her on the deck and says something about how he never doubted her for a second, she kisses him just to shut him up. She can’t possibly listen to his praises, filled with emotion and longing and until I met you, so she pushes them aside in favor of the pleasure she knows he’ll bring her.

The truth is, she can deal with everyone else saying things like that to her. When her parents say it, she can rationalize that they’re obligated to encourage her. When Henry says it, it’s because he believes in everyone, not just her. When Neal says it, she doesn’t even believe him at all.

But then Hook says it. She doesn’t want to believe him, but she does. His honest and raw words unhinge her because she has no reason not to believe them. He owes her nothing and has nothing to gain from attempting to woo her because he’s already had her in his bed- well, jungle- countless times. So she believes him. And she’s terrified.

So she continues to do what she does best. She ignores her feelings until she can’t anymore, and she deals with them by replacing them with the pleasure he brings her. A part of her tells her that she can’t continue doing this, but a bigger part of her tells her that it’s okay, because once they get back to Storybrooke, he’ll leave in favor of the sea or of finding another realm to pillage and plunder. Once he’s gone, she can forget any of this ever happened and move on.

It’s a perfect plan, except it doesn’t work. Because he stays.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! @kmomof4 requested Monday morning smut and I am here to deliver. But remember, with great smut comes great angst. That is the way of CS fic. And so I give you part 2 of my @neverlandnewyear fic.

She’s got to stop doing this. She told herself it would end after they got home to Storybrooke. Once they got home and he went off to his pirate life, things would go back to normal for her and she could work on getting her life back together. She didn’t expect the bastard to stick around. 

She certainly didn’t expect him to tell Neal that he was  _ backing off. _

“I thought you were going to leave,” she shouts angrily as she boards his stupid ship. He pops up from below deck, holding his hand over his eyes to block the harsh afternoon sun. 

“Come again, Swan?” 

She rolls her eyes and walks closer to him, approaching the steps to below deck with forceful pressure. “It’s been two weeks and you're still here. I thought you were leaving after we got home.” 

He shrugs, leaning his propped-up elbow against the archway he stands in. “Sorry to disappoint, love.”

Huffing angrily, she turns from him and rolls her eyes once more. “So what, you're just gonna hang around now?”

“It’s quite a quaint little town,” he reasons. 

“And where do you get off telling Neal you're backing off? You realize he’s not going to let it go now, right?” 

He hums in a way that makes her so much angrier. “And that upsets you?” 

“Yes it upsets me!” she shouts, throwing her arms up and letting them slap against her thighs as she spins to face him again. He straightens and raises a brow, stepping onto the main deck with her and getting just a bit too close. 

“Is there anything to be done to rectify that, Swan?” he asks, his voice husky and rough and his eyes sparkling too much in the bright sun. 

“No.” 

“Nothing?” 

She laughs breathily, angrily, and says, “shut up,” before grabbing onto his lapels and forcing their lips together in a heated kiss. 

He chuckles against her, pulling her towards the ladder that leads below, to his quarters and out of the line of sight of anyone who may be walking by. 

“We have to stop doing this,” she mumbles as he presses her against the steps once they get to the bottom. His lips find the sensitive skin of her neck as his body grinds into her’s, making her moan. 

“Do you want to stop?” he asks breathily as he licks along her throat. 

“No.” 

Lifting her shirt above her head, his lips find her hardened nipple once he pushes the fabric of her bra away, licking and sucking in a way that makes her moan again. “Neither do I,” he says against her, the hot air blowing against her moistened skin making her shiver. 

He trails his mouth down her torso, biting her flesh and soothing it with his tongue before he reaches the button of her jeans and pops it open. Sliding the fabric down her legs slowly, she feels the sharp, cool metal of his hook gliding along her skin and she shivers again, breath stuttering when she feels it brushing over the curls between her legs. 

With a smirk, he lifts one of her legs above his shoulder, granting himself the access he needs as she sits on the edge of one of the steps. “I must say, I’m glad that we’re continuing our little tryst,” he says, his mouth so close to her core that she can feel his hot breath over her. “As much fun as we had amidst the trees, having you on my ship is something else entirely.” 

She wants to tell him to stop talking so much, because she can’t stand to think about the fact that she’s allowing this to continue, but her words fall flat when he drags his tongue along her core, gathering her arousal and latching his lips to her clit. She lets out a breathy moan as he artfully traces her skin with his tongue before swirling a finger around her opening. He alternates the pressure and speed of his tongue against her before sliding his middle finger inside, curling it slightly and making her stomach flip as she moans again. 

The way he touches her is addictive. She can’t stop herself from thrusting her hips into him slightly, longing for more from him and nearly slipping off the ladder as she does so. He chuckles against her and the reverberations makes her whimper pathetically before he slips a second finger inside. “Fuck,” she groans. 

“That’s the idea, love. But not until you come for me first.” 

A third finger finds its way into her and she cries out, squeezing around them as he speeds up his ministrations on her clip. He always knows exactly what she needs, and it’s something she tries, and fails, not to think about constantly. Perhaps if she had any semblance of self-control, she wouldn’t keep coming to him. But the way he touches her like he’s known her for centuries and the way he talks to her in exactly the right way is too good to pass up. 

She comes hard around him, squeezing her walls on his fingers and her thighs on his head as she falls with a shout. He gives her almost no time to recover before he drops her leg and stands, holding the back of her knee with his hook and wrestling with the laces of his trousers before he’s thrusting himself inside her.  _ Finally.  _

There’s nothing like the feeling of him buried in her. She can try and deny it all she wants, but she can’t ignore the fact that she’s never felt this good in her entire life. She likely never will again, once she finally puts a stop to this. She puts away the thoughts of ending this…  _ thing _ between them in favor of focusing on the way he slides in and out of her effortlessly at the most perfect pace. She cries out when he flicks his fingers against her clit again. Her last orgasm was so powerful and so recent that she finds herself falling off the edge again in record time. “Don’t stop,” she begs, as she does every time, but he never does. 

“Come on, love,” he encourages, thrusting a bit harder into her. “I can feel how close you are; come for me again.” 

She listens to his commanding voice, because what choice does she have, really? He knows her body too well, and she can feel his smirk against her neck as she lets herself fall off the cliff’s edge once again before he follows suit. His own moans are muffled against her skin as he holds her tightly to himself. It’s too tight, they’re too close, but she can’t help herself from tightening her own hold around his shoulders as she catches her breath. 

She realizes herself and loosens her grip, pushing on the front of his shoulders until he releases her leg and backs away from her. His chuckle is self-deprecating as he tosses her a small cloth. “Aloof as always, aye Swan?” 

She rolls her eyes as she cleans herself up and hops back into her jeans. “We really have to stop doing this.” 

“Why?” 

She laughs, but it comes out as more of a scoff. “Because it’s a bad idea. We’re not… doing this,” she says, gesturing her hand towards him and shrugging. 

“Well,” he says as he ties his laces back up. “It appears as if we  _ are  _ doing this. If you want to put a stop to it, I suppose you’ll need to discontinue your visits.” 

She clears her throat, adjusting her top and trying to fix her hair. “I suppose I will,” she agrees. 

“Of course,” he starts slowly, coyly, “no one said we  _ have  _ to stop.”

“We do,” she says immediately, shutting down any suggestions he may be considering making. “I have responsibilities; I can’t keep sneaking off like a teenager. I have to put my family first.” 

“Ah,” he says, looking down at his feet and looking as insecure as she’s ever seen him. “So I can assume you’ve made your choice, then?” Stilling, she sighs and turns away from the ladder she was about to climb. “You do know that having feelings is not a bad thing.” 

“I don’t…” She doesn't have anything to say. 

It’s his turn to sigh. “Aye, love, I know. If you’d prefer we stop here, then that’s what we shall do.” 

She shouldn’t be surprised that he isn’t putting up a fight. He’s a man of honor, as he often claims. The fact that he’s putting her needs above his own desires shouldn’t leave her speechless. But in reality, all she can think of is how hard Neal has been fighting to be with her, and how unwilling he has been to take no for an answer. 

~~~~

“Emma!” Mary Margaret calls once she walks through the door. She probably should have checked on the appearance of her hair and clothes before she walked home, but she’s hopeful that no one will know what she was up to in the middle of the afternoon. 

“Hi,” she says back as she shuts the door. 

“Where were you? We missed you after breakfast.” 

“Uh,” she starts, her cheeks flaming and her steps towards the fridge halting. “I was, um—”

“Oooh,” her mother responds with a smirk. “I see.” 

“What?” Emma demands as she takes a few more steps and grabs a water bottle from the fridge. 

With a coy chuckle, her mother says, “Emma, you’re blushing, and your shirt is… well,” as she nods downwards. When Emma looks that way, she sees a bit of her bra uncovered before scrambling to straighten out her shirt. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me what you were up to. I think I can put the pieces together.” 

She hopes beyond hope that that isn’t true. “Well, whatever you’re assuming, don’t worry. I already put a stop to it.” 

“Oh, honey, no,” she responds, much to Emma’s surprise. “I can tell that you’ve been a bit torn lately, but it’s clear that you’ve been happier.” 

She takes a sip of water, unsure if she can handle a hope speech right now, and shrugs. “It’s not worth it,” she says. “Everyone I’ve ever been with… it’s just not worth it.” 

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says firmly as she walks over to her daughter and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Never say that. You’re right, it is a risk. But it’s one you need to take knowing that there are uncertainties. It’s scary, and there’s the chance that you can be hurt, but Emma, the pros  _ so _ outweigh the cons. Trust me, some things are worth it.  _ Love _ is worth it.” 

“Woah,” Emma says, “no one said anything about love. I don’t have any feelings for—”

She laughs and places a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, I know a woman in love when I see one. And you said it in Neverland yourself! He is the father of your child. He’s your first love. There’s nothing wrong with still having those feelings, especially if things between you are… physical.” 

She chokes on her water, placing it down and coughing, hitting her chest, hoping to not expose one of the many bites hidden under her hair. “Mary Margaret,” she stutters, “it’s not like that.” 

“I realize this is awkward. We aren't exactly roommates anymore, so maybe girl-talk is off the table. But, Emma... if there’s one thing I would tell you, it’s to listen to your heart.” 

She scoffs. Her heart has certainly led her astray in the past, and she’s unsure why she should trust it now. The first time she did, she ended up alone in prison and pregnant at 17. The last time she did, he died in her arms. Her heart has never had her best interests in mind, she thinks. Perhaps that’s why she started things with the pirate; because he could never be someone her heart would fall for. Perhaps that’s why she feels so betrayed now that she knows that isn’t working. 

He’s made it impossible for her to ignore her feelings. To ignore the fact that she even  _ has _ feelings. She wishes so desperately that she could put these to the back of her mind and ignore them as she has always done. She wishes she could ignore the way he knows her so intimately without trying. The way he can read her immediately and invariably. The way he knows exactly what she needs, and not just sexually. The way he cradles her when they’ve finished and the way he lets her go when she asks. 

It’s too much, so she ignores it. 

~~~~

She swore she wouldn’t wind up here. 

She promised herself she would move on, and that her yellow bug would  _ not _ find its way to the port on that or any night. 

She vowed that her feelings, which she continues to stubbornly ignore, would not interfere with her plans.

But now here she is, watching him happily and fancifully stroke his stupid hook through her hair, tucking her flyaways back into her bun. 

She hates herself for sitting here in her car, under the pretense of patrol, watching them flirt with each other and wishing it were her. 

Tink laughs, Hook does too, and Emma nearly retches. 

~~~~

“Emma!” She hears from the diner door days later, and when she turns she’s met with exactly what she was expecting: disappointment. 

“Hi,” she mumbles once he sits across from her. 

“Hey,” he says happily, giving her a smile she once trusted. The one that convinced her to do what she would never do now— now that she’s an adult with the experience and knowledge needed to make decisions. “How’s it going,” he asks causally. 

“Fine,” she grumbles, noting her near-empty mug and the fact that he doesn’t notice her need for a refill. 

“Cool.” 

Things between them are far too awkward, and she wishes she weren’t in this diner. She wishes Henry hadn’t just left for school and that she had a bit of a buffer between herself and the threat before her. 

She wishes she didn’t see him as a threat.

“Ems” he starts, leaning across the table at her. As he does so, she sees the Neal she knew twelve years ago and lets her guard down faster than she thought possible. “Go out with me,” he says in a tone that demands an affirmative response.

She clears her throat, hoping to remain strong and to consider what he put her through the last time they were involved with each other. “I don’t know,” she responds. 

He smiles at her, that crooked smile she recognizes as the one her 17 year old self fell in love with, and takes a sip from his drink. “Come on,” he says. “You already stood me up once. I don’t have to ask you out again, but I am.” 

She blushes at his mention of the last time they were here— when he waited for her to show up and she didn’t. “I’m sorry,” she says, without thinking about it and without truly meaning it. 

“Hey, I get it. We went through a lot together, the whole Bonnie and Clyde act. But we’ve both grown up. And Henry thinks it’s a good idea.” 

With a roll of her eyes she says, “of course he does. He’s eleven, why wouldn’t he want his parents to be together.” 

“Why shouldn’t they be?” 

“Neal,” she starts, but she isn't sure where she should go from here.

Before she can decide, he’s standing from the booth and she almost feels relief at the thought of him leaving. She’s almost able to take in another breath, let go of the one she’s been holding, but before she can, he’s sitting beside her and pushing her down to the end of the bench, encasing her in the booth and making it impossible for her to run. “Come on,” he says softly, leaning his face towards her. 

The confusion she feels is overwhelming as he leans towards her, the warmth of his breath washing over her mouth and the scent of his cologne taking over her senses. She hasn’t been in this position in twelve years, and now that she’s back, she isn’t sure what to do. If he had found her here a year or two ago, she would have jumped at the opportunity to be with him again. But now, something has changed. Now, she realizes what life is like without him. Not only without him, but with someone else. 

When his lips press to hers, the only thought she has is how chapped they are and how greasy his nose is as it glides against her own. The only coherent thought she has is how she almost raises her fingers to slide through his hair, but stops herself. She thinks about how wrong his goatee feels against her chin. She thinks about how unpleasurable it is when he bites her bottom lip lightly. 

Breaking away from him, she wipes the back of her hand against her mouth to remove any evidence of him being there and pinches her brows together. “I don’t,” she says, but again, she’s unable to form a thought. 

“So good it left you speechless?” he asks, and she scoffs. 

“I have to go,” she says to him promptly, pushing on his shoulders and hoping that he backs off of the bench enough for her to exit. 

“What do you mean?” he asks her forcefully. 

“I mean I have to  _ go. _ There’s something I have to…” She can’t continue, can’t finish her thought. She knows she can’t tell him what she’s about to do. Knows she can’t explain to him that, despite ending things between herself and Hook, she needs him more than she needs to breathe right now. 

“Seriously?” His voice is vapid as she stands. “I’m Henry’s father. You can’t seriously be telling me that there’s someone out there who’s a better match for you.” 

With another scoff and a shake to her head, she grabs her jacket and heads out the door. 

~~~~

The ship is silent when she arrives, trying her hardest to sneak across the deck without the heels of her boots clicking too loudly against the aged wood. The problem is that her adrenaline is absolutely spiking and she’s finding it difficult to slow herself down. What she needs is the release that he’s guaranteed to bring her. 

“Swan,” he says once he arrives on the main deck she’s trying to sneak across. 

“Oh,” she exclaims in surprise. “Hi.” 

“It’s the middle of the morning, love, is something wrong?” 

“No,” she lies. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the station?” 

With a shrug and a few steps closer to him, she says, “something came up.” 

He sighs. His nod and the purse of his lips tell her that he understands her meaning and why she’s here, so she proceeds towards him until her hands find his shoulders. “We can’t,” he says, much to her surprise. 

She draws in her brows in confusion and leans towards him, saying, “of course we can.” 

“No,” he says forcefully, pushing her back with gentle conviction. “We can’t. You said you wanted to end things.” 

“Tomorrow,” she tries to reason. Then, “I want you now,” as she pushes forward again.

But he’s faster and stronger and he pulls away from her and grabs her wrist, keeping her from grabbing his lapel as she normally would do. “No.” 

With an angry, childish scoff, she says, “come on, seriously?” 

“Do you want me, or do you want a distraction?” 

“A distraction from what?” she demands, practically shoving herself away from him. 

“You tell me. I’m willing to bet something happened that’s making you come here. Something with Baelfire, perhaps?” 

With an indignant laugh, she turns away from him. “Please. You think you know me so well?” 

“Aye, I do. I think something happened that made you  _ think _ and you couldn’t handle it. So you’ve come here to use me again.” 

“Again!” 

“You’re telling me, honestly, that you coming here every other night isn’t because of Baelfire, or because your mother pushes you to be with him, or because Henry wants his parents to be together? Are you honestly trying to tell me that you don’t come here as a distraction from all of this?”

“Hook,” she tries, but again, she has nothing to say. 

“I have feelings for you, Emma. I want to be with you. With  _ you. _ ” His tone is so real and his eye contact with her so deep and intense that she has to look away. 

“I could’ve sworn you wanted to be with Tink from the way you two were ogling each other the other night,” she says accidentally, slapping her palm against her mouth as she lets slip that she was here. 

His laugh is self deprecating. It’s almost hateful as he shakes his head and turns away from her. “I want you, love, more than anything. But I don’t want to be your secret. I’m not willing to sit around and wait for you to come to your senses. If you don’t have feelings for me as I do you, then I think you should go.”

“Hook,” she tries again uselessly. 

“Please,” he begs, refusing to look her way for the first time. “I’ve known enough heartbreak in my life. I’ve learned to prevent it where I can.” 

With that, with his words hanging heavy between them and her eyes glassing over in response, she turns away and stalks towards the gangplank, careful not to let the tears fall and the sobs break loose until she’s locked away in her bug. 

~~~~

~~~~

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His laugh is self deprecating. It’s almost hateful as he shakes his head and turns away from her. “I want you, love, more than anything. But I don’t want to be your secret. I’m not willing to sit around and wait for you to come to your senses. If you don’t have feelings for me as I do you, then I think you should go.”
> 
> “Hook,” she tries again uselessly.
> 
> “Please,” he begs, refusing to look her way for the first time. “I’ve known enough heartbreak in my life. I’ve learned to prevent it where I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It’s @donteattheappleshook‘s birthday so I decided to post the last part of this story :) Also, we’re aware that we’re basically writing the same fic. That’s how this all started. so enjoy a double dose of Neverland nonsense. Originally posted for @neverlandnewyear
> 
> Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for being a kick ass beta and even better friend!

She’s fine. Everything is totally and completely fine. Nothing is bothering her. 

That’s what she tells herself when she sees Hook and Tink walk into Granny’s a week after his hardcore rejection of her. She nearly chews a hole through her straw. 

“Mom,” Henry says, probably not for the first time, as he waves at her to get her attention. “Mom, I have to go to school.” 

“Right, right, I know,” she responds, wiping her mouth with her napkin and scooting to the edge of the bench. 

“You don’t have to walk me, you know.” 

“I want to,” she says with a smile. She does want to, any chance she gets to spend time with her son is a gift. Any chance she gets to spend time away from Hook is also a gift. She walks to the register and notes Ruby’s gaze, deep and adoring as she stares in Hook’s direction.  _ Of course. _

“Sorry,” she says once her attention is brought back. “Checking out?”

“Yeah,” Emma grumbles, taking out her wallet and handing some cash to Ruby. 

She sighs longingly as she counts the cash, hardly looking down, then says, “you guys were in Neverland together, huh?” 

Emma rolls her eyes and takes her change, unable to answer before Henry calls for her from the door. She exits the diner, and it takes way too much effort to not look back at Hook as she does so. 

By the time she gets to the station, her mood is less than sunny, but that doesn't stop her father from shouting, “good morning, sunshine!” as she walks in. 

Mumbling a greeting in his direction, she sits at her desk and tries to ignore the anger bubbling up inside her. How could he move on that quickly? How could he tell her that he has feelings for her and then start hanging around with  _ her _ ? He knows she has walls, she just didn’t expect him to give up scaling them so quickly. She thought she meant more to him than that. 

She isn’t sure why meaning more to him than that is so important to her.

_ Sadness, _ she thinks. What she’s feeling isn’t anger, it’s sadness. She’s  _ sad _ that she lost him. Sure, she’s mad at him for rejecting her, but she has to assume that the constant desire to break down and cry is more due to her sadness at their… well, it isn’t a breakup. 

“Hon,” she hears from the office door, jumping back into reality with a start. “You got a minute?”

“Sure,” she sighs, sitting back in her chair as David walks in and makes himself at home. 

With a soft smile, he sits in the chair across from her and folds his hands over her crossed knees. “So,” he starts. “What’s up?” 

She lets out a suspicious laugh, giving him a look of incredulity. “Not much, you?”

David smiles again and shakes his head. “I mean what’s going on? What’s up with you lately?” 

“Ah,” she laughs. “Just jumping right into it, are we?” 

“More my style,” he explains, and she laughs again. “Emma, something’s clearly on your mind, and I think I know what it is.” 

She looks up at him through her lashes shyly and shrugs. “I guess.” 

“You’ve got a lot of pressure on you right now. And I’m sure a lot of people want you to make… difficult decisions.” 

“It shouldn’t be this difficult,” she says without thinking much. But her father’s right. She is getting pressured from almost everyone she knows. She wants nothing more than to make Henry happy, but if it’s at the expense of her own happiness, is it worth it? Does thinking that way make her a bad mom? Is choosing her own happiness worth the backlash she’s sure to get?  _ When did Hook become her happiness? _ “If you thought you were coming in here to tell me to be with Neal, don’t even bother.” 

“Oh, I’m not here to push you in one direction or another. Just to tell you I understand.” 

“You do?” 

“Sure,” he shrugs. “You know who doesn’t? Your mother.” 

She lets out a hearty laugh now, her first in weeks, and asks, “what makes you say that?” 

“Well, she believes in your first love being your true love. She thinks that if you had love for Neal back then, then you must have love for him now.” 

“I do,” she sighs. “But I can’t just…” 

“You can’t trust him.” He isn’t even asking. She nods. “Because of your past?” 

“Yeah,” she says, her voice small and weak as she thinks of all that they’ve been through. All that he put her through.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” She slumps back into her chair and lets out a groan, thrusting her fingers into her hair and tugging just slightly. David laughs softly but waits with gentle patience. 

“It was… I was homeless. I was on the run after leaving a foster home.” She knows that the way she starts the story surprises her father, but he lets her continue without interrupting. “I broke into a car, and it turns out he had already stolen it; that’s how we met. And I was so young and naive, and I never really had anyone who cared for me like that before, so I fell for him. The Bonnie and Clyde act was so romanticized, but at the end of the day, we lived in a car and stole every meal. We couldn’t keep going on like that, so we made a plan to settle down.” 

She can see the pain in her father’s face as she tells him what her life was like growing up without him. She knows it isn’t his fault, and he knows it too, but that knowledge doesn’t make the truth hurt any less. 

“Anyway, he had stolen some watches a few months prior and was wanted. He couldn’t collect the watches from where he stashed them without getting caught, and we needed the money so that we could settle down. I decided to get the watches. And he was gonna go and fence them and meet me after with the money, but he gave me one first. So when he called the cops and they found it on me, it was easy to pin the crime on me.”

“Emma,” he breathes, dropping his head to his hand briefly before looking back up at her with glassy eyes. 

“It’s just…” she says through her own tears, ones she didn’t realize were falling. “I loved him. I really thought I did. And when I found out I was pregnant, a part of me wished he would come back and we could be a family. But he never did, and the more time that went by, the more I realized I could never—” she chokes on a soft sob at the memory. “I could never have raised Henry by myself. I had  _ nothing. _ No one to help me. No money, nowhere to live… I was stuck with a criminal record and a teenage pregnancy and it was all because of him.” 

It was because of  _ him. _ What’s to say he won't do it again? 

All she can think about is the one person she knows would never do that to her. 

“I had no idea,” David says sadly. 

“How could you?”

He shakes his head and sighs. “It all makes perfect sense. I wasn’t sure why you were so adamant about not being with him but…” 

“I don’t think I ever forgave him. I don’t know if I ever could. He— he took away my chance to raise my son.” 

She didn’t expect to be so emotional about this; she’s had plenty of time to process what’s happened. Maybe it’s the fact that this is one of the most heartfelt conversations she’s ever had with her father. Maybe it’s the fact that her old wounds have been ripped open again by Neal’s return. 

She considers the pain and fear that comes with being with him. She thinks about the comfort and security she feels with Hook. She wants to bury her head in sand.

“I’m sorry that your mother and I have been pushing you to be with him. It isn’t fair to you.” 

“You didn’t know.” 

“We should’ve known you had a good reason.” She shrugs, sighing and resting her head on the desk for just a moment. “You know, this seems like a pretty easy decision to me: don’t be with Neal.” 

She laughs at that, lifting her head and resting back against the chair. “Yeah, that’s the easy part.” 

“Ah, I knew it. So this isn’t just about him?” 

Rolling her eyes, she says, “you’re pretty perceptive, aren’t you?” 

He hums out a laugh and says, “Well, if you want my advice, which I realize you didn’t ask for but I’m going to give anyway, I’d say you deserve to be with someone who would do anything for you. Someone who would go out of their way to make sure you’re safe, that your  _ family _ is safe. Someone… honorable.”

“Honorable…?” She cocks her head to the side and somehow knows exactly where he’s going with this.

“Yeah. Someone who has had a few opportunities to  _ show _ that he’s honorable. Someone who has proven himself, despite his past.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes and saying, “you’re too much.” 

“I’m not nearly as dramatic as someone else I know, whom I believe I saw heading to his ship not thirty minutes ago.” 

She looks up at him again, this time cautiously, emotionally, and says, “you did?” 

With a smirk, he nods. “I saw how happy you were for the past few weeks, Emma, and I can see how unhappy you are now. I don’t know what went on between you and Neal, or you and Hook, but whatever it is, it’s time to fix it. You deserve to be happy.” 

She does, doesn’t she? Hasn’t she had enough heartache in her life? Isn’t it time for her to admit to herself what would make her happy?

His strong arms holding her, keeping her safe. His soft touches as he comforts her whenever she’s upset. His gentle words of encouragement and belief in her. 

He makes her happy. And she messed it up. She hurt him. 

She’s got to fix this.

She huffs and rolls her eyes again, standing and taking her keys off of the desk. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Take your time,” he calls after her. She rolls her eyes again. 

~~~~

She’s on his ship again. 

She’s holding flowers. 

_ Roses. _

Emma feels the tears trailing down her cheeks, cool against her flaming skin, and drops her head down onto her arms dramatically. She’s too late, she thinks. She hurt him too badly. There’s no way she can put herself out there now. Tink is probably a better match for him anyway. They have a long history, and if she considers the shared glances on the island, probably a sensual one. She probably knows him better than almost everyone. Better than Emma, at least. 

_ God, _ she messed up. 

She messes up more, though, when her arm slips off the steering wheel and her head collides with the horn, alerting everyone at the docks of her presence. 

_ Everyone. _

She scrambles, cursing as she searches for the keys in her bag that lays on the passenger's seat. “ _ Fuck, _ ” she mumbles once she finally finds them, but her hands are shaking so much that she can’t find the correct key and get it into the ignition. Once she finally does, she roars the engine to life and whips it into drive, glancing up and out the windshield, when she sees him. She screams, jumps, and starts rolling towards him. 

She hears his soft  _ bloody hell _ from inside the car as he holds up his arms as if surrendering to her manic driving. She puts the car back into park and drops her head to the wheel once more. 

He rounds the car, squatting before her window and smiling softly before he points down, asking her to open it for him. She obliges, reaching for the crank and turning it painstakingly as it squeaks in resistance. “Alright, love?” he asks, and she thinks it might kill her to be here.

“Sorry that I interrupted whatever you and Tink—”

“You didn’t interrupt. Tink was just leaving. She’s got a big date tonight.” 

Leave it to him to rub it in.  _ Bastard _ . “I’m sure you’ll have a marvelous time.” 

He scoffs, standing up as if to leave, and she rolls her eyes. But he walks around the car until he reaches the passengers side and jiggles the handle until she unlocks it. He moves her bag and places it on his own lap once he sits. “Swan,” he says, staring at her despite the fact that she refuses to look anywhere but straight ahead. “Emma, look at me.” 

She turns, looking at him through her lashes and wishing she didn’t have to hold back. She wishes she could reach over the center console and kiss him. But despite her acceptance of her own feelings, she knows she needs to do the right thing. 

“What’s wrong?” 

She isn’t sure what to make of this question. Of all the things he could say, he chooses this. She thinks of the fact that Neal hasn’t noticed anything being off about her. 

“Nothing,” she lies, faking a smile and looking back at the horizon. 

“Emma,” he repeats. His voice is commanding, but not threatening. “You forget that you’re an open book, love. You’re here for a reason; tell me what it is.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out without meaning to. 

He draws in his brows, then raises one dramatically as he stares her down. “You are?” 

She rolls her eyes. “Yes.”

“For what?”

“You’re gonna make me say it?” she scoffs. 

With a smirk, he responds, “aye.” 

With a sigh, she drops her head once again onto the wheel, then lets out a loud groan. “I’m sorry,” she starts, “for everything. You were right, I was using you, and I shouldn’t have treated you like that.” 

She lifts her head just slightly to look at him for a moment, and sees a soft smile gracing his face. “Thank you.” 

She leans back in the seat, her gaze finding the ceiling far too interesting. “And,” she says, struggling a bit to get the words out. “I’m sorry that my inability to deal with my own feelings hurt you.” 

He takes her hand in his but she can’t look at him. He squeezes softly and says, “Swan.” 

With a sigh, she gives in, unable to look away from those forget-me-nots for long. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

As she stares into his eyes, she realizes why she was trying so hard not to. They’re so enchanting that she’s sure she could say something foolish if she continued to stare into them. Instead, she whispers, “you’re welcome.” 

“Would you care to come aboard so we can talk a bit more comfortably?” he asks softly, taking her hand in his hesitantly. 

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why’s that?” His face is falling, and she wants to catch him and make him smile again.

“I don’t want to get between you and Tink. I shouldn’t have even said anything— if you’ve moved on with her—”

“Bloody hell, Swan,” he says through a laugh. “Tink was here for advice. She doesn’t know much of anything about this town and she was interested in  _ Ruby _ . She wanted to see if I knew anything about her from my short time here before Neverland.”

She squints as she thinks, then blurts out, “Ruby?!”

With a chuckle, he responds, “aye. Ruby and Tink have a date tonight,” and suddenly things start to make sense. 

“So when she was here last week…” 

“Why Swan,” he says with a smirk, “are you implying that  _ you _ were here last week?”

She blushes fiercely and chooses honestly as she nods. “Yeah, but I left. And I’m glad I did.” 

“Why’s that?”

“When I came then, I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t have said the things I needed to say. I’m glad I waited until now so that I could tell you that…”

“That…?”

“That I… I like you.” 

His smile is brighter than the sun reflecting off of the dancing ocean waves. “I quite like you, too.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh yes.” She laughs softly, meeting his eyes once more and falling for him a bit harder. “Now, would you come aboard? I’m sure you could use something to eat.”

She shouldn’t be surprised that he seems to have noticed her nearly full plate at breakfast this morning. With a small smile, she says, “okay.”

When they get to the galley, kept as tidy as the rest of the ship, he offers her an orange, citing their curative properties. When she accepts, he uses his hook to start peeling it, but once she takes over, he looks at her suspiciously. “What?” she asks. 

“I’ve just never seen you willingly eat something so healthy,” he shrugs. “I’m surprised you aren’t demanding Poptarts.” 

With a scoff, she says, “it’s not like you have any.” 

“Well, I’m not sure what the bloody hell a _s’mores_ is,” he says, walking towards a cabinet and taking out a large blue box. _Family size._ Her mouth is watering. “But I suppose they do look rather appealing in the picture here.” 

“You didn’t,” she says with a grin, unceremoniously dropping the inferior orange onto the table and hurrying towards him. 

He shrugs, easily opening the box with his hook. “Well,” he says, trailing off and giving her a knowing smirk as he hands her one of the silver packets. 

Instead of taking it, she leans towards him and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. He lets her kiss him for a few moments, backing them up so that he leans against the cabinet, before breaking them apart and murmuring, “eat,” against her lips. 

“I’m hungry for something else,” she whispers, but her stomach growls angrily and he hoists her into his arms and carries her backwards until he can rest her on the small table in the center of the galley. 

“I’ll not be able to have my wicked way with you if you swoon from hunger, love,” he says flirtatiously, touching their foreheads together, cupping her cheek in his palm and running his thumb along her bottom lip tantalizingly. “Eat,” he repeats, his breath fanning over her face and making her eyes flutter. 

“You’re no fun,” she pouts when he breaks away from her, not even giving her a final kiss. 

“I’ll be much more fun later,” he promises as he sits in the chair just below her and takes the half-peeled orange, starting on it again for himself. Once it’s opened up, he begins segmenting it meticulously, peeling away the pith and dropping it onto the discarded peels that he left on the table. Watching him place each segment into his mouth halfway and bite down, licking his lips as the juice escaped them, is driving her mad with want. 

She eats her Poptart slowly, barely able to appreciate the sweet taste she loves so much because of the distraction he serves. But then she realizes that not only is he perhaps the sexiest man she’s ever met, he’s also the most thoughtful. Seriously, a family sized box of her favorite, most versatile meal doesn’t seem like a big gesture, but she knows the meaning behind it. He bought that for her because he cares about her comfort and her happiness. He knows they’re terrible for her, and will likely berate her when she finishes the box in a week, but he got them anyway because he  _ cares _ . 

_ Dammit.  _

She puts the empty foil packet down on the table by the discarded peel and scoots to the edge of the surface before him, dropping herself onto his lap and straddling his hips with her knees. She isn’t even sure this chair can support the weight of the both of them, but she supposed they’ll find out soon enough when it either breaks or he complains of a safety issue. 

He doesn’t though, he merely pops the last segment into his mouth salaciously and places a hand on her hip, smirking as he chews in a way that shouldn’t be as appealing as it is. “Finished?” she asks him in a breathy tone when he licks his lips again. 

“With the orange,” he confirms with a nod. “With you, not even close.” 

She giggles, actually  _ giggles,  _ before her fingers find his hair and she’s kissing him, enjoying the taste of citrus against her tongue. His hand begins to roam her back, tucking up under her jacket and stroking along her soft, thin shirt while his hook finds purchase in the belt loop of her jeans. It's so easy to be here, to melt into him under his touch, to let herself relax into the feeling of being his. 

He breaks away from her slightly, gently, and runs his fingers through her hair to move it away from her face. “What is it?” he asks, as if he can’t quite read her racing thoughts. 

With a smile, she shrugs and leans into his palm against her cheek. “Nothing,” she starts. “Just… this feels right.” 

He smiles too, leaning closer to kiss her chastely. “Aye, it does. I’m glad to hear you think so.” 

“I want,” she begins, cut off by her own insecurity until his thumb traces the line of her jaw soothingly. “I want you. I want— I want to be with you.” 

“You’re with me, love,” he breathes against her, kissing her softly once more. 

She falters at his misunderstanding, but forces herself forward so that he grasps her true meaning. “I meant I want…  _ us.  _ I want to try— with you.”

He’s still for a moment, and she feels her heart nearly beating out of her chest. She wonders if he can hear it. Though she thought they were on the same page, she isn't sure if this is him gearing up to reject her again. Maybe he isn't ready. 

But when the smile grows on his face and he kisses her again, sweet and passionate and everything she’s been missing over the last week, her heart races for a different reason. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he says against her lips, kissing her again. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

She wastes no time bringing his lips back to hers, running her fingers through his thick, ink-black hair and tugging him as close to her as she can. His hand continues to run up and down along her side before finally tucking under her shirt, erupting a trail of goosebumps in its wake and making her shiver against him. He chuckles as she wiggles just slightly and asks, “cold, love?” 

“No,” she responds. “Definitely not.” 

“Are you hot, then?” he asks with a smirk before biting her bottom lip lightly and drawing a giggle from her. 

“I guess you could say that.”   
  


“Well, I'm hot for you.” 

She snorts and pulls away from him, resting her head on his shoulder and biting the soft flesh where his neck needs his shoulder. He hisses, and the sound goes straight through to her core. 

“Take me to bed,” she whispers in his ear before biting the lobe. 

He hums lewdly and squeezes her before backing the chair up from the table and hoisting her up into the air, her ankles crossing around him. He struggles carrying her through the ship, having to go from the galley to the main deck and then back down into his quarters, but he doesn't complain once. 

When they get down the ladder, Emma terrified that he’ll drop her but keeping her fears to herself as she clings tightly to his shoulders and hips, he plops her on the bed and smirks down at her devilishly. “My my,” he says. “How I’ve missed you.” 

With a soft smile, she asks, “have you?” 

“Of course I have,” he answers, crawling up the length of her and settling himself upon her. “I hope you know I took no pleasure in turning you down the last time, love.” 

“I know,” she says with a sad smile, the memory flooding back to her. She touches his cheek gently with her hand, reveling in the fact that she’s here now, despite what’s happened between them. “It’s good that you did. I had to figure myself out.” He hums but doesn't agree verbally, perhaps worried about offending her. “I’m sorry, Killian,” she whispers. His eyes sparkle a bit and she thinks it must be because she uses his name. He likes when she does that.

“I know, darling. You needn't say it again.” 

“You were right, I was using you and it was unfair.” 

“I’m only happy you see that now, and that we’re able to move past it.” 

“Yeah.” 

He kisses her fervidly and she returns it, hoping to convey exactly how she's feeling through the connection between them. His tongue snakes out along her lip until she grants him access and he takes it happily. His hand trails back down her waist, squeezing her hip as if he can’t get her close enough to him. “I want you,” he mumbles against her mouth without actually breaking from her. “You've no idea how badly I wanted to eat my pride and let you into my bed when you came here, Swan. Thinking I wouldn’t ever have you again was torture.” 

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I never want to stop this.” 

“Good.” 

His lips trail down her jaw, along her throat, towards her chest, until he moves her shirt aside and licks against her sensitive skin along the line of her bra and she moans. He raises himself off of her a bit and tugs her jacket off her shoulders, tossing it to the ground, then follows suit with her shirt. “Has it truly only been a week since I’ve seen these breasts?” he wonders aloud dramatically, drawing a laugh from her. 

“You're ridiculous,” she chortles, tugging on his hair as he removes her bra. He finally mastered the  _ modern corset _ a few weeks ago and he gets it off quickly, even with one hand. Once she’s free from her confines, he tosses the garment to the floor with grandeur and pounces on her, drawing a hearty laugh from her. 

Her laughter is short lived, as the second his tongue strokes along her hardened nipple, her breathing chokes. He nips and sucks and licks just right until she’s being driven mad, his hand paying attention to the neglected breast. His hook trails her waist, the cool steel a shock to her heated flesh, until he reaches the button of her jeans and releases her nipple with a pop. He travels further down her body until he reaches the button, his face lining up to it and his fingers working deftly as if he needs to be close to complete his task. When he tugs the pants down her legs, his hand squeezes her ass lightly on its way down and she giggles again. She’s never laughed this much during foreplay, ever. 

He presses hot kisses against the front of her, still covered in her cotton underwear, before he loops his hook in then and starts tugging them down as well. Feeling the contrast between his warm fingers and his cool hook against her flaming skin drives her wild with her need for him. 

He sits up so that he can toss her pants and boots to the floor, and she only thinks about how unfair it is that he’s still fully dressed for a moment before he’s trailing hot, wet kisses from her knee up the inside of her thigh. “So flawless,” he murmurs against her leg, biting her flesh and likely leaving a mark. “So perfect, and all mine.” 

She moans again once he finds his way to her center, licking a strip through her dampened folds. She hums happily and her fingers find his hair, never tiring of the vision of his head between her legs. A thought pops into her head, and she realizes this is the first time they've been this intimate in his bed. It’s the first time they haven’t had to rush through it. 

“Killian,” she breathes out as his fingers dive into her and curl just right. 

He hums against her in response and she keens, arching her back in hopes of getting closer to him. “Aye, love?” he asks with his tongue planted against her clit. 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ she mumbles. “More.” 

She thought she was going to ask him to stop so that he could fuck her, but at this point, she’s so close that she can’t seem to form the words. He continues his unyielding attention to her until she snaps, silently screaming and pulling on his hair too hard. 

It’s only once she’s come down, as he continues to stroke his fingers against her tightened muscles, that she notices him rutting his hips against the mattress, still fully clothed. She places her hands on his forehead, then his cheeks once he emerges from between her thighs. “Come here,” she whispers. He smiles, doesn’t smirk, and crawls up the length of her to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You’re still dressed,” she remarks. 

“I’m sure we can remedy that.” 

“How? There are so many buttons, and they’re so small.” He laughs as she goes on. “How do you even get them done? I’m not surprised you leave so many open.” 

“I suppose I’ll need your help then, darling.” 

Pushing his shoulders, she flips him onto his back and straddles his lap, bending down to plant her lips against the skin of his chest with each button that she opens. She pushes it open and finds a scar from a blade on his side, below his ribs, and presses a kiss there. She finds another from a bullet on his shoulder and decorates it with another kiss. She takes his arm in hers and kisses the tattoo above his wrist. 

She undoes the laces on his trousers and pulls them off, her face lining up with his cock so that she can lick a strip up his shaft. He groans as she does, and his hips jump towards her when she takes him in her mouth. She can hardly fit all of him in her mouth without her eyes watering. 

She revels in the sounds he makes in response to each of her movements, groaning and moaning as she swallows around him. She hollows her cheeks around his tip before taking him again, but he places his hand on her cheek to stop her. “Love,” he rasps. “I want you.” 

She releases him with a soft pop and looks at him through her lashes as he takes a deep breath, guiding her up to him and kissing her softly. “You’re incredible,” he whispers against her lips. 

With a giggle, she sits up, taking him in her hand once more and stroking him a few times before running the tip along her folds. He squeezes her hip as she tucks him inside her and they groan in unison. She looks down at him as he fills her to the hilt, and she realizes it’s the first time that she’s made eye contact with him during sex. It won't be the last. 

He thrusts up into her forcefully as she grinds on top of him, the two of them setting an unforgiving pace for themselves. For each other. He bends his knees behind her, supporting her rear against his thighs and giving her more leverage. She plants her palms on his chest, her hair a curtain around the both of them before he leans up to capture her lips in his. She drops down, her elbows beside his head and his arms around her waist to pull her closer as they continue their movements against each other. 

After a moment, he shifts them so that they’re flipping over, Emma landing on her back with Killian on top of her. He plunges back in, kissing her passionately as he thrusts relentlessly, perfectly. She claws at his back and desperately whispers, “don’t stop,” into his ear. He groans and buries his nose into her neck and kisses her skin, the tender gesture a contrast from his fierce thrusts. 

They reach a precipice together, clinging to each other and shouting out into each other’s skin. She lets her muscles tighten around him until she falls off the edge of the cliff he’s been working her towards, then she feels him spilling himself into her almost immediately after and it makes her cling to him harder. 

He kisses along her neck and jaw and face endlessly as they come down from their highs, and she can only smile once she catches her breath. When she does, she kisses him back. 

“That was marvelous,” he whispers, and she chuckles. 

“Yeah,” she breathes back. “Thank you.” 

“You needn’t thank me for that, love. I’m sure it’ll happen again.” 

With a laugh, she says, “no, I mean thank you for listening. And for giving me a chance.” 

He rests his forehead against hers and nuzzles his nose against her own and says, “always.” 

~~~~

They should’ve been more careful. It was the middle of the morning when she arrived, and she was technically supposed to be working, so they should have taken care not to fall asleep. But when she wakes and the sun isn’t streaming brightly through the eastern-facing windows, she knows she’s screwed. 

“Killian,” she hisses, jabbing his ribs with her elbow as he holds her back to his front. “Wake up, I have to go.” 

“No you don’t,” he mumbles into her hair, holding her tighter. 

“I’m supposed to be at the station.”

“ _ Shhh _ .” 

She rolls her eyes, unaware that Navy men could nap, and wriggles her way out of his tight hold in favor of grabbing her phone. She should have cleaned herself up before they fell asleep, but she didn’t exactly plan on that happening. 

When she pulls her phone out of her pocket, she has 3 texts from David. 

_ Hope everything’s going well… All good? _

_ Actually, I don’t want to know.  _

_ Been a while, let me know if you’re coming back today.  _

Dammit. 

She scurries around the room to get her clothes on, refusing to speak with her father without them, and then calls him to put his mind at ease. He answers on the first ring. “She’s alive!”

“I’m sorry. I lost track of time and—”

“Seriously, I don’t wanna know. Shifts almost over anyway,” she pulls the phone away and sees that he’s right. She’s a terrible sheriff. “I was able to handle everything. Take the rest of the day and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. You two worked it out, I’m assuming?”

With a grin and a blush as she looks down at Killian who begins to stir, she says, “yeah, we did. Thanks, Dad.”

“See you later,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. 

When she hangs up, she sees him smiling at her and she can’t help but to go back towards the bed. “Morning,” he murmurs. 

“Hardly. It’s almost 3.”

“You must be famished then.” He pulls her hand so that she’s laying across his chest atop the blanket. 

“I could eat, but I don’t know if I’m in the mood for another Poptart.”

“I wouldn’t dream of giving you more than one a day.” She doesn’t have the heart to tell him it comes with two in each package. 

“Granny’s?”

“Sounds perfect.” 

~~~~

They sit across from one another in the booth, Emma’s back to the door, before she thinks better of it and moves to sit beside him. It’s a tight squeeze, but she doesn’t mind being close to him. He gives her a look, a quirky smile as if he’s entertained, and tucks his hook under the table. She wonders if he does this to hide it from her, but she can’t imagine why he would think he’d need to. So, rather than ignore the thoughts like she may have a week ago, or even yesterday, she reaches under the table and takes his hook in her hand to hold it tenderly. 

He breathes out in a way that could be a laugh, or perhaps it’s in disbelief, and he bumps her shoulder with his. 

“The usual?” Granny asks with disinterest, seemingly unfazed by their close proximity and child-like grins. 

“Yes, please,” Emma responds, stomach singing praises at the prospect of a grilled cheese and onion rings. 

Killian orders a clam chowder, apparently something he can’t get enough of,  _ much like you, love. _

She giggles again, something that makes her so unlike the person she thought she was, and presses her nose to his neck, leaving a kiss there. She’s about to tell him something, she isn’t sure what— perhaps that she thinks he’s funny, or that he’s ridiculous— when the door opens with particular force. 

“Emma,” she hears, the tone accusatory, and she straightens, stiffening but not pulling too far away. 

Henry’s with him. 

Neal picked him up from school. 

“Hey mom!” he calls as he rushes towards the table and sits across from them. 

“Hey kid,” she says back with a smile. Though she’s rigid, she feels her muscles relaxing in the presence of her son. “How was school?” 

She notes Neal from the corner of her eye, sitting awkwardly at the counter but still facing them suspiciously. 

“Good, I learned my eights times tables.” 

“Wow,” she says with a smile. Though she hated math, she finds that Henry enjoys it, and she couldn’t be prouder. “That sounds fun.” 

“What’s this time table? Some sort of clock?” Hook asks. 

“Modern math,” Emma explains with a soft laugh, and he nods in understanding. 

“So, what are you guys doing here?” he asks, gesturing towards her close proximity to Killian. 

“Ah,” Hook says awkwardly, scratching behind his right ear. “Grabbing some lunch.” 

“Isn’t it kinda late for lunch?”

She clears her throat and straightens a bit, taking hold of his hook once more under the table and trying to speak loud enough so that Neal can hear. She’s sure he will, as she’s sure he’s listening closely. “Actually, Henry, we’re on a date.” Killian looks at her immediately, surprise and excitement written across his face, and when she meets his gaze, she smiles softly at him. “Right?” 

He looks at her so longingly, so…  _ lovingly _ , that she can’t help leaning towards him. She almost kisses him before she hears Neal stand from his stool and walk over. “Henry, I gotta go.” 

“I thought we were having milkshakes?” 

“Seems like you can have one with your mom and… Hook,” he spits in disgust.

“Neal,” Emma tries, but he holds up a hand to silence her. 

“It’s fine, Ems. I see you’ve made up your mind and that’s just fine.” 

She glances towards Henry and Killian and then stands, placing a hand on Neal’s shoulder to not-so-gently persuade him to speak with her in private. 

“Neal, come on,” she says once they’re alone.

“ _ What? _ ” 

“So I didn’t choose to be with you! I’m sorry about that. It doesn’t have to impact us.” 

“There is no  _ us _ , Emma. You made that perfectly clear when you stood me up and got together with  _ him. _ ” 

She rolls her eyes and huffs an angry breath. “We have a  _ child _ together. We will always have a relationship. And you were engaged a few weeks ago! To someone who _ kidnapped my son! _ ” she hisses in quiet anger. 

“I didn’t know Tamara was like that!”

“The point is, you have no claim over me. You have no right to judge me for moving on and being happy with someone who isn’t you. I can’t go through this with you. You were  _ just _ engaged to someone else. How could I even believe you?”

“That thing with Tamara wasn’t even real, Emma, you know that.” 

“But you didn’t know that; it was real for you. And seeing how fast you moved on from her just reminded me how fast you moved on from me. After you left me in jail.” 

“We’re not seriously talking about that again, are we?” 

“We’ve never talked about it!” She’s trying so hard not to raise her voice, mindful of the fact that Hook is somehow entertaining Henry across the diner. 

“I moved on from her because I knew I wanted to be with you!” 

“It’s not enough for me. I deserve to be with someone who makes me feel safe. Who shows me every day that they want to be with me too. That I mean something to them.” 

His tone is so patronizing that she feels herself shrinking. “When did I ever show you that you didn’t mean something to me?” 

“When you called the cops!” She does shout now, the diner quieting and the patrons turning to look at them discreetly, and she blushes 

“You’re really letting the chance of us go because of a pirate and a mistake I made 12 years ago.” It wasn’t a question. He seems in such disbelief and she honestly isn’t sure what to say to make him see her point. The fact that it isn’t just what happened 12 years ago. 

“That wasn’t a mistake, Neal. A mistake is something you can fix. What you did ruined my life. You took away my chance to raise my child.” It’s all she can do to keep from crying at the memory of the decision she had to make. 

“I didn’t know,” he says softly, weakly, as he looks down at his feet. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Well, what about Hook?” He asks, raising his voice now. “He left with the bean, didn’t he?”

“And then he immediately came back and helped us rescue Henry! He made amends! There’s nothing you can do that will make me forgive you for what you did to me. To him.”

“You said you loved me.”

“Because you gave me my son. You said you wouldn’t stop fighting for us; just… fight for him. He loves you, so I want to be civil and coparent with you. But that’s all you and I will ever be. Please respect that I’ve made my decision and it runs so much deeper than choosing between you and Killian.”

He’s silent for a moment, essentially pouting as he tucks his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and kicks at the ground, before he says, “fine. I gotta go.”

“Okay. When are you seeing Henry for dinner this week?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neal, don’t take this out on him. Just tell me when you plan on seeing him for dinner.”

“I don’t  _ know,” _ he says more forcefully. “I’ll text you or something.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.” 

She watches as he walks by the booth, glaring at Hook and tapping Henry on the shoulder, then walks out the door without a word. 

~~~~

Later, when they’re on his ship out on the bay, laying together on the main deck as the stars shine in the blackened sky, he runs his fingers through the ends of her hair and she traces hers through the curls on his chest. “I only know the Big Dipper,” she says softly, and he hums happily. 

“I’ll teach you, love.” 

She curls up closer to him, tucking her head into the space between his neck and shoulder. “That sounds nice.” 

“And perhaps we can have dinner beforehand. Somewhere other than Granny’s?” 

With a soft chuckle, she asks, “why Captain, are you asking me out?” 

“I believe that’s customary in this realm, yes?” 

“Yes, I guess it is.”

He kisses against her temple, pulling her closer to him until she’s giggling and hopping up onto his hips and straddling her thighs around his, running both hands along his cheeks and planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “Well then,” he says once she releases him, “I quite look forward to it. Henry informed me that you may enjoy an Italian meal.” 

“Henry did?” 

“Aye, lad was quite excited, I’d say. Said something about taking you out on a  _ real date. _ And about being glad to see his mother so happy.” 

She laughs in disbelief and shakes her head before kissing him, this one with more fervor than the last. She sneaks her tongue along his bottom lip softly as his hand trails up her waist, and she can’t help the contented sigh that releases from her nose. “I am happy,” she says when they press their foreheads together. 

“Aye, I look forward to making you happy for many years to come.” 

And he does make her happy, scaling her walls and crashing them down until all that remains between them is respect and trust and endless love. 

~~~~

~~~~


End file.
